


A Different Kind of Empty

by mandy5150



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandy5150/pseuds/mandy5150
Summary: Dean mourning Cas after Lucifer killed him and then a Destiel kiss when Dean picks Cas up after the Empty evicted his ass back to life with a noise complaint. I don't actually include Cas dying, it just starts when he is currently dead.Inspired by this animation: shorturl.at/nstR9
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Kudos: 19





	A Different Kind of Empty

Dean leans back against the burnt pire, smell of smoke and burnt corpse still staining the air. The sun's risen a decent amount, reflecting over the lake, rocks and weeds coat the shoreline, and surrounding the lake is a forest. It's too picturesque. Too beautiful. Hollow. Empty. Or maybe that's just Dean projecting his own emptiness that he knows alcohol won't shake onto his stubbornly apathetic surroundings. Sam and Jack are in the car. They have been for half an hour, waiting for him. Dean can't bring himself to care, despite the thought repeatedly crossing his mind that he should get going. It occurs to him that he feels like he can't move. He doesn't want to. It takes an unusual amount of strength to lean his head back onto the warm charred wood.  
"Cas." Dean whispers. He knows it's futile, but it feels comforting, even if the name bares it's weight in gold. "I'm gonna pretend you can hear me right now. Just for a second." He closes his eyes and just breathes, imagining that Cas was somewhere out in the world listening, alive, unharmed, not knowing why Dean was in pain. Dean relishes in the fake reality he just created, where Cas is perfectly fine. Instead of behind him. Crumbling. No, Dean decided for a minute. 'That's not Cas, not right now. That's a- a ghost's body, that's right. Cas is out there somewhere. Cas can hear me.' Dean grabs a piece of char from behind him and grips it tight, only for it to immediately crumble. He doesn't move his hand, still loosely holding the ashes. His head lolls forward and he opens his eyes. It feels pointless now. Stupid. Praying to Cas when the reality is so unavoidable. He decided to finish the prayer anyway. If only he could find a place to start.  
"Please." That's seemed a decent place, he decides, only to immediately regret it. It feels too real. "This view, it's uh-" he harshly chuckled and held back tears, "you gotta see it in the sunlight. You've probably seen it or something like it before, but it's stunning." The words sounded more and more pointless the more he got out. He imagined Cas sitting down next to him. With that stupid backwards tie and the trench coat that have suited him differently since he came back from Purgatory. His eyes that put both the lake and the sky to shame, and hair that would rival the charcoal between his fingers, both in chaos and color. He tightened his hand, gripping the ashes, pretending they were Cas' fingers in his palm. They feel nothing like him. Dean leans his head to the side, pretending the smoke that brushes across his face are Cas' eyelashes. He closes his eyes. The dream can be real, so long as they stay closed. Cas' hair lightly brushes across Dean's forehead. Cas' nose brushes his own, his fingers pull away, and instead of a burnt log at his shoulder, it's Cas leaning on him. Dean lifted his head up a little, keeping his eyes closed, making room for Cas' head, not daring to touch it. The weight at Dean's hip wasn't one of his cellphones, it was Cas's elbow, as he reaches around to hold his hand again. Dean turned his palm down and gripped Cas's hand tight, sighing in relief, crying through closed eyes. 'The mountainside is truly amazing' Dean heard Cas say. "It is," Dean choked out. 'Hey, shhh...' Cas reached with his other hand and pulled Dean's head onto his shoulder. His coat was chalkier than usual, and his fingers light as they combed through Dean's hair. 'It's going to be alright, Dean. Hey, look at me." His voice was calming and determined.  
Dean remembered a story Sam had told him, about some old Greek dude who went to hell to bring his wife back from the dead. So long as he didn't look back as he left, his wife would live. He always thought the guy was stupid for turning around, but now he almost understood. His wife wouldn't have lived again, even if he hadn't turned around. He just wanted the delusion to be real, to the point where he had to ruin it to make it real. As much as he wished to just sit here with his eyes closed forever, he would never hold Cas' hand again. Not that he took the opportunity often when Cas was- when Dean had had the opportunity. Dean opened his eyes and let go of the handful of dirt he had been gripping. Cas wasn't there. Cas couldn't save Dean from this empty hell. Cas' hand was just dirt. His shoulder was just a branch. It was just a log. Just a cellphone. Just smoke and wind through his hair. Dean stood up, now desperate to leave the taunting unreality. Sam was in the passenger seat. The antichrist in the back seat. The gravel's too loud beneath Dean's feet. The door needs to get oiled again. He slams it behind him and sits for a second. Sam looks up from what he's doing on his laptop and glances between Dean and Jack, settling on Dean. Dean grips the steering wheel and stares forward. 'Goodbye Cas' he finishes the prayer, silently, emptily, and then pulls out without a word. 

Dean found himself praying to Cas every night while Cas was... gone. He avoided talking about him, he avoided thinking about him, save when he couldn't help but pray to him. That second part was nearly impossible whenever they didn't have a case. Not thinking about Cas. Hell, it was impossible when he was... when Cas was here. Anyway, for some reason one single solitary daily prayer when Dean could pretend Cas was as alive as he was, was the only time he could abandon the pain, confusion, the just- the overwhelming feeling of incompleteness and panic at not knowing what it meant. It apparently came with Cas being gone. He held onto those nightly moments where he and Cas could just pretend that Dean had had the courage to be honest with Cas. To not withhold the truth at the very least. To imagine that, years ago, Dean had pushed his fear and discomfort aside. Instead of burying it and facing the consequences and now falling asleep every night holding Cas only to wake up feeling more alone than ever with a pillow under the sheets.  
So when he received the phone call after one of the worst cases he's had in a long time with Cas' voice on the other end, he remembered when Cas had first raised him from hell. The first phone call he had made, to Bobby, where Bobby had immediately hung up and then threatened to kill him, and he wondered if he should do the same. He had every reason to, this could be every thing but the real deal, it's irresponsible, really, to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help himself from staying on the line as long as he could, as long as Cas had quarters. Which was six. Cas had somehow found six quarters. Six glorious quarters.. After they hung up, Dean prayed. Mostly just the one word, "please." His mind was everywhere, circulating on the road and that one word. He didn't care that Cas probably got annoyed incredibly quickly of the one word over and over again, he didn't care that it seemed desperate, he didn't care that his silent prayer was probably a mess because he couldn't tell where the line of "silent prayer" and "thought I accidentally focused on" was. When they drove up to the phone booth, Dean should have thought about the silver knife in his back pocket, the iron and silver, salt filled bullets in his gun, the machete, the crowbar, but none of it crossed his mind. Because every night, when Dean prayed to Cas, as much as he ignored it, he knew it was an illusion. Because as much as he tried, his Cas wasn't Cas. His imagination couldn't replicate the feel of Cas. The simple way of standing like he forgot his arms existed, the look in his eyes that pinned Dean where he stood with ease, the feel of Cas was impossible to replicate. Which is why, Dean didn't think twice, let alone once, before walking up to Cas and putting both of his calloused hands around the back of Cas' neck, and pulling him in for the most relief filled kiss he thought had probably ever existed. Cas' lips were soft against his, and for a second, completely motionless. Dean went to pull away, but Cas grabbed Dean's hips and kissed him back in equal fervor. When they pulled away, Cas' eyes were the first things he noticed, Cas' shy smile being the second, and he couldn't help but pray silently, one more time. "Please, be real."  
To his great relief, Cas grinned and answered "I'm real, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this video: shorturl.at/nstR9  
> Which is weird cause the video is not sad, it's actually adorable and I love it, but I had just finished 15x18 when I found it and I needed to mourn. The first uneditted half of this is actually in the comments of that animation if you want to look. Definitely watch the animation, whether you read my comment or not, it's just beautiful, their animation style, the way it went with the song, and just, it scratches a part of my brain. It's cheesy and adorable and I love it.


End file.
